"You are talking of me."
"I am talking of my husband."
Eustace left the piano and stepped outside into the beautiful still night. The moon was looking over the fantastic gables of the hall, and filled the garden with trembling shadows. It was exquisitely beautiful, but human beings bring the prose of life into all the poetry of Nature. Eustace did so now.
"May I smoke a cigarette, Alizon?"
"Certainly!"
He lighted a cigarette and leaned against the wall of the house, watching the ghostly curls of smoke melting in the moonshine. Both were silent for a few minutes, occupied with their own thoughts, and then Eustace spoke.
"Why don't you divorce your husband?"
Lady Errington started violently, for, strange to say, she was thinking of the same thing. She felt inclined to resent Gartney's plain speaking, but the light from the lamp was striking full on his grave face, and, seeing how much in earnest he was, she changed her mind.
"I shall never do that," she replied quietly, with a slight shiver. It might have been the night air or the idea of divorce, but she shivered as she spoke.
"Why not?"